The Assassin
by Igirisu England
Summary: Alfred F Jones had been able to see numbers on top of people's heads ever since he could remember. Danger levels. Every person and animal had one, ranging from 1 to 10. He had never seen a 10 in his life, until a new student transferred to his school. Arthur Kirkland. Meanwhile, the police are trying to solve the murder case of one Francis Bonnefoy.


**The Assassin**

7, 2, 1, 5. Numbers floating around the air on top of people's heads. Alfred F Jones had been able to see them since he could remember. Adults had a higher number than children, and some were higher than others. He had always known, somehow, that they were danger levels. Even animals and plants had numbers. So far, though, he had never seen a full 10.

He had always been excited by the stories where the hero saves the day, no matter how lame they were. Because of this, he signed up to be a detective the second he could. Which was quite early, as he started when he was 16. It was a long story, he met some detective, accidentally helped in some case, blah, blah, blah.

Alfred doodled on his desk in boredom as the bell finally rang. He spotted the teacher as she came in, followed by the supposed transfer student. He nearly fell out of his chair in shock when he saw the number on top of his head. 10. Alfred couldn't believe it. A student, who seemed barely older than he was, had a danger level of 10. He didn't even seem dangerous, and was quite short, or shorter than Alfred, at least.

"Quiet," she called and the class gradually quietened down. "We have a new student today; his name is Arthur Kirkland." She turned to Arthur. "You can take the empty seat down there."

The class went by as usual, but Alfred was having a hard time keeping his eyes off the new student, or rather, the number floating above his head. The kid didn't look dangerous at all. He had blond hair, green eyes, and had an English accent. Probably from England.

The bell rang, signalling the next period. Alfred checked his timetable and sighed, maths, his least favourite class. He glanced at the transfer student again. He knew he should stay away, but he was never one to follow common sense and made his way over.

"Hi, m'name's Alfred. Maybe I could show you around? Since you're new and all…"

Arthur glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching him. "Of course."

"Good, what period do you have next?"

Alfred glanced over at Arthur's timetable.

"What a coincidence! I have maths as well, you could just come with me!"

"There's no need to shout…" Arthur grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

They hung around for the rest of the day, and exchanged phone numbers. Alfred started relaxing when he noticed no implications of murder or violence from the blond. There was one incident involving some burnt scones, which he was sure were poisoned, but that didn't matter.

"Bye, I have a dentist appointment now, see you tomorrow!" Alfred waved at Arthur.

"Sure, bye," Arthur responded.

Alfred then proceeded to head to the police station, where he was told to wait. He had received the message halfway through science, and it told him that this was going to be his first real experience at being a detective. He had gotten so excited that he had accidentally spilled a bit of the avid. Thank God it had a low toxic level.

It was 4:40pm. Alfred tapped his foot impatiently. 4:50. He took out his phone and was just about to call when the detective finally showed up. Took him long enough.

Detective Gilbert was the one who granted him access to become a detective at such a young age. He had discussed with the officials and they had finally agreed after 4 hours, 45 minutes and 57 seconds of debating. Literally. He had been standing outside checking his watch every minute.

"Alfred, the officials have allowed me to take you with me on this investigation. It's going to be your first murder crime." Gilbert said once they were inside. He withdrew a folder of documents from within his coat. Alfred took them eagerly and was only slightly discouraged by the image on the front page.

It depicted a dead man, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. The murder wasn't as gruesome as he thought it would be, and it seemed the victim had been killed by a clean shot through the head. There were no other injuries whatsoever. The man was called Francis Bonnefoy, someone who was involved in political affairs and had more enemies than allies. It was quite clear why some would want to get rid of him, but the question was who and how. Francis was usually guarded and didn't seem the type to purposefully put himself in dangerous situations.

He was murdered in the forest behind the gates of his mansion in London. The body was discovered at 6:40am, by a maid. No sound was heard, so it was assumed the gun had been a silent one. The main question, however, was how the victim had been lured out into the forest, alone, in the dead of night. Judging by the wound, it seemed he had been killed around 1-3am.

"That's all for today, we'll investigate the crime scene tomorrow," Gilbert said as he stood up.

"That's all?!" Alfred jumped up immediately. "You could have just sent me the documents instead you know!"

Gilbert smirked. "Can't a guy see his favourite kid once in a while, huh?"

"I'm not a kid! I'm friggin 17!"

"Still a kid!"

A hooded figure made its way down the dark alleyway just as a car stopped in front of the street. No words were exchanged as a card swapped hands. Emerald eyes glinted dangerously through the darkness as they followed the retrieving car.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Arthur had been in the assassin business since he was born, as were his parents, though they were dead now. The underground was full of criminals, guilds, runaways and everything was ruled by social powers.

Most assassins were part of a guild, though not all were. These people were called Solo Players. It was named after their profession, as murdering and deception became a main part of the underground game. The whole place was basically a game board, and the humans players, whether they were pawns or kings.

Arthur was quite notorious in the underground, as he was known to never fail a mission. No one knew his name, identity, or even what he looked like. He was actually quite proud of this fact.

His parents had written in their will for him to be transferred to his aunt's place when they died. He complied, though he never knew why. His aunt, Elizabeta, thought his parents were ordinary people, or that was what Arthur thought anyway. She appeared relatively normal, and had a job as a music teacher.

Just the day before he began school, he had shot another person. He didn't feel particularly guilty, since he had killed hundreds more before this, and he especially loathed this target for some reason. Maybe it was the way he acted, or the way he looked, but Arthur just couldn't stand him. Scrap that, he didn't feel guilty at all.

The Alfred kid he met at school seemed suspicious, as he kept glancing at him every now and then, as if expecting him to attack him. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill him, as that would be a nuisance and the kid didn't seem too bad. He smirked when he saw the news on TV; the police were miles off with trying to find the truth.

Alfred tapped his foot against the car excitedly; he was finally going to the site! The car skid to a halt in front of the 'DO NOT CROSS" tape and Alfred jumped out immediately.

"Calm down, you're not going to get anything done at this stage," Gilbert muttered annoyedly. "Besides, this is a murder scene, not a circus."

Alfred scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly, "Sorry."

"Good, have you got a camera with you?"

Alfred held up his phone.

"Let's go in then. Make sure not to touch anything."

The crime scene didn't have much to show for, as the body had been removed, and the only indication that it was there was the chalk outline drawn around it. There were no strands of hair, pieces of cloth, or anything that could provide information about the killer's identity. The only clue was the bullet embedded in the victim's head, which was shown to be crafted by the infamous weapon designer. Only 10 know weapons made by him/her were recorded, and they all had engravings of AC on them. No one knew the identity of this person or how to contact them.

"That was useless, y'know," Alfred told Gilbert as they were on their way back from the site.

"Doesn't matter, we had to check just in case."

"It was still a complete waste of time."

"Double checking is not a complete waste of time."

"Then you're stupid."

"No way, I'm awesome."

They bickered the entire trip back, and Alfred was so exhausted by the time he got back that he faceplanted into his bed and fell asleep without changing, as well as completely forgetting the science report he had to finish.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing, you bloody git!"

"Ehehehehe….." Alfred tried to hide the burnt cookies in his hand. He wasn't even sure they were cookies. A few weeks had passed since he had checked the site of the crime, and the police and detectives were still at a complete loss. Alfred had become close friends with Arthur, and had discovered that he was extremely horrible at cooking. He was pretty sure Arthur could find a way to set fire to a bowl of cereal just by pouring milk into it. He was really that awful at it.

The sad part about his friendship with Arthur was that the latter tended to ask him to try out his cooking. The first time he had been constipated for the whole day. This time he had tried to sneak them into his pocket, then the bin. Unfortunately for him, he had been caught.

"But seriously, your cooking should be considered illegal!" Alfred shouted at Arthur even as he started to run.

"Like you could do any better, you asshat!"

"Course I could! I bet a tree could do better!"

He ended up running around the whole campus.

"Alfred, as you know, the killer is most likely an assassin, an extremely talented one at that." Gilbert's voice rang over the phone. "I know you can see danger levels, so if you see anyone with a high number, notify me immediately. Especially if they seem suspicious."

Gilbert was only one who knew about Alfred's special ability (besides Alfred himself) and had discovered it wholly by accident. Alfred nearly smacked himself. He had completely forgotten about the numbers. He was about to tell Gilbert about Arthur, but stopped just before he opened his mouth. It couldn't be Arthur, right? He didn't try to harm him, and wasn't suspicious. He seemed too normal to be a killer. A nagging voice in the back of his head retorted; But what about the number? He arrived the day after the murder. And don't assassins tend to be able to blend in?

"Alfred? You still there?"

This drew Alfred back to reality.

"Yeah, of course. Just got a bit distracted by the game." Alfred tried to laugh it off.

"Should've known. You need to pay more attention when the awesome me is speaking."

"Sure, sure whatever. I haven't seen anyone with particularly high numbers. I'll tell you when I do. Bye now, I need to finish this game."

"You and your stupid games."

The call ended with a beep, leaving Alfred to his own thoughts. What if Arthur is the assassin? What would he do? He knew he should turn him in without hesitation, but Arthur was his friend. Friends didn't turn each other in. Unless he was pretending. But why would he pretend? It wouldn't benefit him in any way if he was an assassin. He couldn't know about Alfred's ability.

Alfred groaned. All this thinking was making his head hurt. "I'll just deal with this tomorrow," Alfred thought as he drifted off to sleep.

"Arthur, what do you think about this crime, eh?" Alfred waved the newspaper in front of Arthur's face.

"This thing? It's last month's isn't it? It's way outdated." Arthur said as he scanned the article.

"Yeah, but it's still not solved. Normally this kind of thing would've been solved in a week."

"Why are you so interested, anyway?" Arthur asked while typing on his laptop.

Alfred laughed nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Alfred always did that when he was lying.

"Me? Interested? Of course not! I was just a bit curious. That's all." Alfred lied. Arthur just shrugged and turned back to his laptop, while internally panicking. Could it be that he knew? But how? He would have to kill him if he knew, but this time, the thought of taking away one's life didn't appeal to him. He didn't know when, but he considered Alfred a friend before he knew it.

Alfred, meanwhile, was also panicking. He hoped his lie wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. This isn't working. I need to be more subtle.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes? What is it now?" Arthur asked exasperatedly.

"Y'know that assignment we had? I was wondering if we could do it at your house. We don't have much time left, after all."

"But couldn't we just do it at school? We could probably do it if we worked faster." Arthur replied, looking up from his laptop.

"I've got my homework for other classes as well, so…"

"Fine, Yeah, you can come."

Alfred was sitting in front of Gilbert, reading the extremely long report that was collected over the month. It listed the enemies that Francis Bonnefoy had, and the ones that were most likely to have a reason to kill him, and were able to. It also listed his ID, as well as what he did in his life.

"Could you just sum this up for me?" Alfred groaned and he read the 100th page, and saw he was not even half way through.

"Fine, since I'm so awesome." Gilbert sniffed. "This Francis guy is involved with several businesses, and has played dirty with a lot of other business partners. As we know, he must have been bribed with something that lead him out to that forest on that specific night."

"Yeah, and?" Alfred asked.

"You really are quite dumb, y'know? Not many players in the political field would reveal their weaknesses without a benefit that would be worth the risk. Unless they were blackmailed or were just particularly stupid." Gilbert paused at this and glanced at Alfred meaningfully.

"Hey, I'm not dumb!"

"Yeah, right. Whatever, continuing on. Because of this, I've collected a number of suspects who were involved with this person recently, and those who have extreme reason to hate him. These are the people, if you've bothered to read them."

He flipped the page over to 197. There were ten people there, all involved in large companies and businesses. Their involvement with the victim was specified with time and date, as well as their reasons to kill him.

"Which one do you think is the most suspicious?" Gilbert asked once Alfred finished reading.

"This one." He pointed at an image of a middle-aged man named Ludwig Fischer. "He's relatively new to the political ways, and seems quite hot headed. He's known to be able to win over companies quite well, despite this fact. This shows that he's probably better in the 'behind the scenes' department. It seems as if he lost a tremendous part of his business because of Francis recently, and he's the type of person who would want to get back at him in an obvious way".

"You actually sound relatively smart." Gilbert said once he finished explaining his reasons.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Alfred said disgruntledly.

"I, on the other hand, think it's this person though."

They continued debating, until they were down to 5 people.

"I don't think we can narrow it down anymore without it being risky. I'll ask the higher ups tomorrow." Gilbert packed up the files and motioned for Alfred to come. "Have you seen anyone with a high number?"

Alfred hesitated. Gilbert seemed to have noticed and asked "I know you saw something. It'll only slow us down if you don't tell me. Besides, if this person really is innocent, they'll be free.

"I'm working on it. If I find something, then I'll tell you," Alfred replied after a while.

"Sure, whatever." Gilbert returned with a light-hearted tone, though they both knew it was fake.

Alfred looked around Arthur's house. It seemed just as any ordinary house would be. No guns or knives (except the kitchen ones), and nothing you wouldn't expect from a normal house.

"We can just do the assignment in my room," Arthur said as he lead Alfred to an upstairs room.

Alfred tried to search every corner without it seeming too obvious. Still nothing. No guns or suspicious clothing. They worked on it for 2 hours, until an opportunity finally presented itself.

"I need to go to the bathroom, I'll be back in a sec." Since there was only one bathroom, which was located downstairs at the end of the house, there was plenty of time for Alfred to search the room.

"Sure, I'll work on this," Alfred said, while his mind was going a million miles an hour. Once the door closed behind him, Alfred immediately got up and started searching. Shelves, drawers, under the bed, hell, even the bin. Nothing whatsoever.

Just as he was about to give up, he remembered something Gilbert once said. "Some things are the hardest to spot when they are hidden in plain sight." So what was obvious and casual enough that you wouldn't try to spot it, but not obvious enough that it was plainly seen?

Alfred checked everything on the table, nothing there either. The photograph! He rushed to open the frame and a card fell out. It seemed pretty normal, like an ordinary credit card. By now, he could hear footsteps approaching. He panicked, and decided to just take the card and give it back later if it was really just a credit card or something.

He adjusted the frame, jumped back to his seat and started scrolling through some random website.

"I brought back some refreshments," Arthur said as he close the door behind him. "Did you even do anything?"

"I couldn't find a good website," Alfred muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Something was up. He glanced at the photo frame on his bedside table. He couldn't tell if it had moved from here. The hours flew by and the sun began setting.

"Finally, that took ten years!" Alfred grumbled as he got up and stretched.

"It wasn't that long."

"Well it certainly seemed that long. You're bringing the project to school though."

"Fine, you lazy idiot."

Alfred was just about to insult him back when his phone rang. It was from Gilbert. "I gotta go now, my mum's calling me."

"K, bye."

Once he was outside and out of hearing range, he answered the call.

"What's up? Did you find anything?" Alfred asked immediately.

"Yes, actually. The higher ups lowered the suspects down to three people, and I went with some others to question them. The day after I questioned the third one, he was murdered. It's likely the same person who killed Francis killed this one as well, as they were killed the same way, though this one was killed in broad daylight, most likely sniped."

"So do you know did it?"

"No, you idiot, that's why I'm calling you. I need you to tell me about that person with the high number. You said you were working on it. Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure if it is anything suspicious though. It looks like a credit card but something seems off."

"Doesn't matter. Bring that over to the police station."

"Here's the card," Alfred told him as he handed over the card he had (practically) stolen. Gilbert took it and examined it closely.

"Nothing seems out of the ordinary, who did you get it from?" he asked.

"Someone from my class. He had a '10' on top of his head."

"What's his name?"

"Arthur Kirkland. Can you check the card first before interrogating him, though? He's kinda my friend."

Gilbert looked over at him with a look that said: 'Are you serious?'

"Fine, I'll check it."

Gilbert gave the card to the specialised tech person in the police department and waited. She finally came back after what seemed like ten thousand years. He had nearly fallen asleep while standing up, which probably would have resulted in a nasty bruise.

"I've tested this several times, and it seems that this is a fake credit card produced by the NCA company several years ago that got banned. It makes it seem like there's whatever number you require there to be in the bank, until you try to use it."

"How many people brought this product?" Gilbert asked.

"Not many, as this product was banned nearly the second it was discovered. Only those with enough power to cover it up could've brought it. The company has a record of the people who brought them, and each were signed by contract not to use them. Not quite sure why they agreed, though. It was obvious they were going to use it for something."

"Can you contact them and see if someone by the name of Lukas Bondevik brought this?" gilbert questioned, holding out the picture of the third suspect.

"Sure, just wait here."

"Again?!" he groaned.

The woman glared at him. "If you don't want it, it's fine."

"No, no I want it. Just wondering if there's a chair somewhere."

"There's one right by the water tank, in case you didn't notice."

Gilbert almost smacked himself. "Ah….thanks, he said awkwardly.

He sank down into the chair as she walked away, relieving his legs from their pain of having to stand up for 4 hours.

"Alfred, I've pieced up some things, though you need to confirm some of these points," Gilbert said as they sat down.

"Of course, so was the card fake or something?"

"Yeah, it was, and it turned out that card originally belonged to Lukas Bondevik."

"I knew he was guilty!"

"You did not. Besides, from what I've figured out, Lukas was the one who sent the assassin to kill Francis Bonnefoy. Then he gave-"

"-The card to the assassin as payment, as he didn't expect him to be able to kill him as well."

"Don't cut me off," Gilbert grumbled, irritated.

"I am right though, aren't I?" Alfred smirked.

Gilbert ignored him and continued on. "Based off the information, it's almost certain the assassin is your friend Arthur.

Alfred's heart dropped. He had forgotten about that.

"I know you don't want to, but we might have to arrest him. We can have him killing anymore people."

"I understand," Alfred muttered, staring at his shoes.

Arthur knew Alfred had now realised he was the assassin. He felt bad leaving his aunt here, but he had to go now, preferably out of the country. He knew it was a bad idea coming here. What were his parents even thinking?

Rain started pouring as he left the house in his aunt's car, which she had let him borrow every Sunday. Water sloshed everywhere, forming puddles even as the drain worked its hardest. The rain was increasing and becoming thicker. Was it just him, or were there sirens ringing around him? He swiped the rear windscreen and glanced behind. Police cars were right on his tail.

Damn it! He knew he stayed too long. He stepped on the pedal and accelerated, swerving left and right. Luckily, his dad had taught him how to drive (like a maniac). Several cars were shook off and some others crashed into poles, trees, fences and various other road equipment.

Arthur checked his rear-view mirror. Only 3 cars left. He crossed a street and sped over a red light, avoiding other normal day-to-day cars. One wasn't so lucky and crashed into a pole trying to avoid one of these 'day-to-day' cars. The road swerved onto a narrow street off a slope, one side protected by a natural rocky wall, while the other was lined with railings.

Ping! Arthur glanced behind him. Someone had started shooting.

"Stand down!" A man with a German accent shouted. "We're not supposed to kill him! We're supposed to capture him alive!"

A bullet shot right into the glass window next to him, though it barely made a dent. Was this car bulletproof? Did his aunt know about him and his parent's profession? He decided to worry about this later as he took out his gun with one hand, the other still on the steering wheel, glanced behind him through his rear-view mirror and fired.

Bingo. A head shot. He heard a vague muffled scream and the car with the now dead policeman swivelled off the road and down into the trees below. Arthur glanced behind him and smirked. Only one to go. He froze when he recognised Alfred in the front seat, next to the driver, who he assumed to be the one with the German accent.

BEEP BEEP!!! Arthur swivelled back around, spotting a large company truck 5 metres in front of him. Panicking, he jerked the steering wheel as hard as he could towards the right, and avoided the truck just in time. That was the good part. The bad part was that he broke through the railing and was now falling downwards. Towards the ground. He knocked open the door, jumped out, tucked his legs in and rolled towards the ground. He would be lucky if he didn't break his neck. A distant sound of a crash resonated through the air, but he was too focused on trying to survive to care.

Arthur felt a warm liquid trickle down the side of his head and realised it was blood the second he felt it. Besides that and a few scratches, he was relatively unharmed. The car was now completely busted, with the wheels rolling around and headlights popping out. He glanced up just in time to see a police car dropping down a short distance away from him. Now would be a good time to get going.

Gilbert glanced around the area, taking in the damaged car and blood stains. This was obviously where Arthur had crashed, though there was no sign of him. He took out his pistol just in case and started searching the area. He glimpsed a flash of blond hair, and was about to turn around when he felt a sudden pain in his neck. The last thing he saw were a pair of green eyes staring at him before he blacked out.

Arthur knocked out the German guy, feeling that his conscience wouldn't allow him to kill Alfred's friend. The rain was pouring harder than ever, and by now, Arthur was completely soaked. He ignored the freezing water and wind and continued back around the way he came. If the guy died, it wasn't his fault. It was going to be nature's fault this time.

By now, Alfred was hopelessly lost. He tried calling Gilbert, but he didn't pick up. He was beginning to feel worried. Twenty minutes of walking around in the soaking rain was starting to take effect, and Alfred was starting to feel it in his bones. Maybe he should try calling for hel- SMACK!

He stopped, catching himself from falling, while the other wasn't so lucky. Once he realised who it was, he immediately raised the shotgun Gilbert had given him.

"Why did you kill all these people? They were innocent!"

Arthur raised his head and stared at him blankly. "I thought you knew I was an assassin? Killing is my profession."

"But don't you feel even the slightest bit remorseful or guilty about it?"

"Nope, humans kill animals all the time. What's the difference?"

"It's different-"

Alfred didn't get to finish as Arthur kicked the gun out of his hands and pushed it towards his head.

"Go on then, kill me." Alfred tried to keep his voice steady, which was hard, both because of his fear and the weather. Arthur hesitated.

"Afraid now? Haven't you already killed hundreds?"

Arthur lowered his head and muttered, "You know I can't kill you, or else you would be dead by now." He dropped the gun to the floor as the rain continued to pour down, seemingly reflecting the mood. Alfred stared at him in surprise, but he knew if it came down to it, he would never shoot him either. He'd never even shot an animal before, let alone his best (and only) friend.

"Well if neither of you can shoot each other, I will," a voice rang through the semi-darkness of the forest. A gunshot rang through the woods, scattering the birds circling above, then silence.


End file.
